Shelby Lynne's 'Tears, Lies and Alibis' is as unwavering as a stare

Shelby Lynne sings in quick, blunt bursts, suggesting the kind of jabs you don't see coming but which can drive you to your knees.By barely coloring a note, and rarely extending it, Lynne communicates the directness of someone addicted to telling the truth, no matter whom it hurts.

Small wonder she has arisen as one of country's toughest and most uncompromising stars. Lynne's not unlike a distaff answer to the outlaw country icons of the '70s. Think: Waylon Jennings in drag.

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Twenty years into her career -- and 10 beyond her oddly timed Grammy for "Best New Artist" -- Lynne seems to be getting only more honed and headstrong. The story behind her riveting new album proves the point.

Originally, Lynne recorded "Tears, Lies & Alibis" for the prestigious Lost Highway label. But when she delivered the early demos, the company insisted she bring in a big-name producer to give the music the right commercial gloss. Guess how that went over.

Rather than relent, she split with the company and went off to record and release the album herself, ensuring there'd be no dilution of her intent.

Lynne kept the final production and arrangements as spare and sharp as her singing. It's a sound as unwavering as a stare. If that makes the album sound difficult, or wanting for pleasure, neither proves to be the case. Lynne has written some of the most graceful and aching melodies of her career. More, the stripped accompaniment communicates focus and taste, rather than meagerness or withholding.

Lynne's last CD set the stage for this. In 2007, she issued "Just a Little Lovin'," a covers collection of (mainly) Burt Bacharach songs associated with the great Dusty Springfield. But instead of doing the easy thing and coasting on Bacharach's glistening melodies, Lynne cut down the tunes and slowed their beats, letting her voice focus on the emotions that lie behind the songs' finely applied style.

For "Tears," Lynne gives that minimalism a new intensity. In "Alibi," she unclutters her singing entirely, honing phrases into something as sharp and bloody as a paper cut. With "Like a Fool," she leaves lots of room around each line, letting every accusation and admission hang perilously in the air.

Lynne edits lyrics just as ruthlessly, honing them into near haikus, mainly sad ones. In "Family Tree," she kisses off a close relative forever. In "Loser Dreamer," she sings with resignation, "If love is what you're after/you're looking for disaster."

The only love song with happiness expresses it for a trailer.

Clearly, Lynne favors a dry style in her humor as well. But that sense of understatement feels especially welcome just now. As we all suffer through "American Idol's" brand of vocal overkill, Lynne offers an object lesson in singing at its most simple, clear and true.